Drunken Mistakes
by Skate-815
Summary: Four times that Olivia Dunham shared a bed with Peter Bishop, and one time she didn't. My take on Olivia and Peter's eventual hookup. Now, finally complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. I'm pretty much sworn off multichapter fics, because honestly I'm not much good at them, but this idea's been niggling at me for a while, so I thought I'd have a go.**

**It's set sometime in the future, where Peter's dating Rachel. I know... the thought sickens me too, but it worked better that way. **

**It's not too happy at the minute but I think it's going to be two or three chapters long in total, with a happy Bolivia ending, I promise.**

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The first time is a mistake.

It happens when they're in a bar in a quiet part of town, drowning their respective sorrows with shot after shot of tequila. The next day Olivia tells herself that the case was to blame, but she knows all too well there have been much worse. The simple truth of it was she'd had a catastrophic row with Rachel that morning, beginning over something so petty, and ending with Olivia throwing her sister from her apartment.

Tomorrow she would call. If she was feeling charitable, she might even apologise, but now, oh now she wanted to prove that Rachel wasn't the only Dunham girl that could bed Peter Bishop.

It takes her over an hour to make her final decision. After all although it seems that she is the master of office affairs, she's never been the other woman. She'd never before seriously considered stealing away her sister's boyfriend, and just thinking of it now sends waves of guilt through her. And so it takes one full hour before straight vodka overrides her conscience and she moves closer to Peter than she's sure is strictly necessary, and begins her ungainly attempts at drunken flirting. The next day, she'll claim to remember very little of what went on and true enough she does forget much of what went on, up until the moment that Peter leans forward and abruptly kisses her.

It's clumsy and rough and totally unlike any first kiss she'd previously shared with anyone. But with the sting of Rachel's earlier words still present it feels fiercely right and in the blink of an eye they're staggering into a taxi, back to her now gloriously free apartment.

Once through the door the bruising kisses resume, coupled now with two pairs of frantically roving hands. As they hit the bed, clothes are hastily discarded and Olivia's shirt loses a button or two in the process. It is only when they are both fully naked that they both pause, the enormity of the betrayal they're about to commit hitting them both hard.

In a drunken haze, Olivia decides quite firmly that she still doesn't care and pulls Peter to her. In the tangle of sheet, limbs and moans she's almost certain she hears the word love being uttered, but that night, in those circumstances, it's not something she wants to hear and so she pretends she doesn't. Peter doesn't repeat it again.

The morning after consists of a pair of banging headaches, about three minutes of hunting for missing clothes and a lot more avoiding the other's eye. They manage to share a cup of coffee without speaking so much as a word and just before half past eight, Peter walks to the door, muttering something about collecting Walter.

He hesitates for a moment by the door and she prays silently that he isn't about to make this any harder than it already is. With a shame filled voice, he all but pleads with her

"Please don't tell Rachel."

And with those four words, he is gone. Remorse strikes her at the mere mention of her sister's name and she wonders how she could possibly have allowed herself to do something like this. Like Peter she resolves to just forget the whole thing, and hopefully sometime within the next month she'll possibly be able to meet his eye again.

She seriously doubts it.

So the first time is a mistake. A strangely perfect mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

What a pity the same couldn't be said for the second time.

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**And of course, reviews make me want to update.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly, thanks to everyone who reviwed the last chapter. I was really expecting like one review.**

**Secondly, sorry I meant to post this chapter faster but I had writer's block from Hell with this fic. Honestly, I had plans for four different ways that this chapter could go, ranging from a fluffy 'undercover' kiss to a super angsty chapter where I killed off Charlie.**

**This one's a bit angsty, but nothing compared to what I had originally written. I hope you like it**

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The second time Olivia shares a bed with Peter Bishop is entirely more innocent.

It begins with Olivia lying alone in bed at an hour far too early to properly be called night time, a dull stillness about her. Her eyes are red and puffy from the incessant tears she's long since scrubbed away, each one a betrayal of her outward togetherness. Her only consolation is that no one can see her now, in this ridiculous state she's gotten herself into.

But then considering everything he has said and done, she supposes she should be glad she made it home before she descended into this sobbing mess. Glad that she made it to her bedroom without Rachel or Ella seeing her in this pathetic state. Still she knows she only has until dawn to recover, because chances are she'll not be able to make it through work tomorrow without seeing _his _smarmy face and she can't possibly react like this in front of her co-workers. Not if she wants to retain a morsel of self respect.

She'd lied to Rachel when she'd knocked, telling her something about food poisoning, because she knows that Rachel will take the news far worse than even she had. And despite everything they'd ever said to one another in the heat of the moment, she knows deep down she has to be the strong one of the pair. Fortunately enough, her sister had been too preoccupied with choosing the perfect pair of earrings for her date with Peter to pay her much more heed. Until that is, she realised that she would have to actually pay for a babysitter for Ella instead of leaving her with good old dependable Aunt 'Liv.

Not that she would usually have minded. A stronger bond with her niece is the one good thing to come out of a Peter and Rachel hook-up, but today she knows that she'll not be much fun, and so even though she knows some company would probably be good for her, she ignores her sister's complaints and focuses on looking ill rather than upset when she comes into her bedroom to plead.

An hour passes and Olivia is almost surprised when she hears Peter arrive. After the day they've both had, she knows she isn't fit for a night out on the town, but then she supposes it's obvious the case would never have gotten to him as much as it had her. Of course it hadn't. In fact she wouldn't be surprised if he's forgotten all about it already.

She hears low voices in the living room for a few minutes and then nothing. A jangle of keys and the soft thud of a door serve as the only goodbye she gets from three people who are supposed to care about her. She finds both a relief and a horror in the abrupt silence that falls over her apartment as she realises not for the first time that it will be just her and her thoughts trapped together in her bedroom until her alarm. She knows it's neither healthy or sensible, but she's beginning to consider taking a sleeping pill or six when her bedroom door creaks open and she blinks stupidly as Peter appears, dressed for a date, but alone.

"You okay?" he speaks first, his tone gentle and while she intends on telling him that of course she is, yet more tears come in lieu of words and so she settles for a choked nod instead. Although the darkness of the room obscures his face she knows he'll be looking on her with pity and internally she berates herself for causing such a fuss over something as simple as her step father coming to town. Especially since it seems she's interrupting his date to do it.

"Why aren't you with Rachel?" she asks once she regains control of her vocal cords and the tears have been hastily wiped away

"I told her to go to my hotel room, order in and watch a couple of DVDs with Ella. I said I needed to talk to you alone for a while." Rachel wouldn't be pleased, this Olivia was certain of. Her sister had accused her all too often of monopolising her boyfriend's time, even going so far as to suspect an ulterior motive for it. So it would of course only be wise to send Peter back now, before Rachel's green eyed monster got the better of her and certain uncomfortable truths were revealed.

"Just go Peter. I'm fine." She attempts to sound as together as possible but it seems to fall on deaf ears.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know you're not going to just sit here crying all night, or go after that bastard to finish him off." The idea of the latter gives her more reason to smile than she's had all day but Peter doesn't look slightly amused as he crosses the room and almost nervously sits on the edge of her bed, "It's okay, Rachel understands."

"You told her?" Olivia sits up sharply, feeling an urgent, insistent need to protect her sister from the mere memory of that monster, but Peter's slow shake of the head calms her slightly.

"Only that you had a rough day and you'd probably need to talk to someone who understands. She agreed that I was the best person for it." She's pretty sure that the last part at least is a lie but for now, she's content to live with it. Almost casually, he moves until he's sitting fully on the bed alongside her and it is then that the glow of the lamp falls fully on his face for the first time that night. It's been such a long day she's nearly surprised when she notices his black eye.

"Does it hurt?" she asks suddenly and in a move that is quite unlike herself, her hand runs gently along his swollen cheek. He denies the pain of course but his hiss of breath upon contact tells another story altogether. She almost smiles again as she recalls the image of Peter tackling her step father as he attempted to escape from his twisted little lab, and how the pair had brawled until Charlie reluctantly gave the order to get Peter off of him. A memory that acts as some sort of balm to the scars from her childhood.

"Did he ever… He didn't hurt you, did he?" Peter sounds so troubled she nearly denies it, but following years of protecting John from this very truth she doesn't quite feel as if she has it in her to lie again and so she simply says

"Not as bad as he hurt my mom." Speaking of it now brings more tears that prick at her eyes, but she doesn't allow these to pass. She's cried far too much already that night. Despite her attempts to hide it Peter seems to notice her sorrow and almost at once his arms fall about her in an awkward embrace. The hug is uninvited but certainly not unwelcome and she shifts slightly, resting her head on his chest, hearing the soft thump of his heart.

"I wish Charlie hadn't stopped me" he mumbles against her and although she should remind him that he'd have spent the night in a cell if he'd gone much further, she finds it much easier to just nod

"Me too."

She lies against him silently for far too long, reluctant to break away after the day she has had. She is vaguely aware that they're being vastly inappropriate- that if Charlie, Broyles or even Rachel could see them now they would be less than impressed, especially if- heaven forbid any of them learnt of their indiscretion a few months ago. However right now she feels less Olivia Dunham, FBI agent and more… well she doesn't really know, but it's something that makes it okay to be pratically lying atop of your sister's boyfriend. Eventually reality forces her to either get a grip or to kiss him again and although she desperately wants to, this time she does the responsible thing and pulls away.

"Thanks for coming, Peter." he accepts her words as the goodbye she intended and he stands, looking a little awkward.

"No problem." He glances at the door and then back at her, "I can stay a while longer if you want." She knows he would stay all night if she allowed him to, but her sister is waiting and to ask him to remain wouldn't be fair on either of them.

"I'm fine." She tells him firmly and although it's not strictly true, she's a damn sight nearer to it than she had been when he first arrived. After a searching glance he seems to accept her words

"I'll see you in the morning then." He doesn't wait for a goodbye and the last she hears from him is the turn of a key in the front door. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, she falls into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

This morning after is considerably more paracetamol free than the last and not spending the night with Peter Bishop has the added bonus of being able to look him in the eye without wanting to dig a hole and die in it the next morning.

And so the second time is considerably more innocent, based less on lust and more on friendship than the first.

A pity then, that Rachel doesn't see it that way.

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**One more to go. It'll end with some happy Bolivia, promise. Or as happy as I'm capable of writing :p**

**I should probably warn you all now that if you don't see the third chapter of this before the 1st July, then this won't be updated til August, but it hopefully won't come to that, because I have some ideas already for the big finish.**

**Reviews inspire updates of course.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Apologies to anyone who tried to read/review this earlier on and it didn't work. I think I've fixed it now.**

**I know, I know it seems like ages since I updated. Reasons being, I was away all of July, I got more writer's block in August and I was back to school in September. This chapter indeed did go through several incarnations like the last one as well.**

**Anyway, for those who are reading, thanks for waiting and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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The third time is all about jealousy.

I slept with Olivia.

Four words. That's it. They shouldn't be _that _difficult to get out and yet every time Peter thinks he's built up even a modicum of courage, all he has to do is look at Rachel and he feels his semblance of a backbone shatter beneath her clueless gaze. Being lost for words has never been a regular occurrence for him, but neither he has to suppose has cheating on any girl drunk, desperate of just plain dumb enough to give him a chance.

But Rachel isn't any of those things. Not really. For instance although her IQ has to be distinctly average, she certainly knows that something is up with him, and she's more than certain it involves her sister. This he can tell from the probing questions that constantly come his way about what exactly happened between them that night she left them alone for nearly half an hour.

Peter tells her nothing about her stepfather's visit and subsequent trip to prison, of course. Partly because Olivia doesn't want him to, but partly as well for Rachel's own sake. But that just makes things worse, and suspicion becomes the norm between the once happy couple. He's more than certain the sisters have been rowing too, and although neither party admits it to him, the strained smiles and dark looks between them certainly convey that message.

Sometimes he bickers with Olivia, because as he has known all his life, and as both Dunhams must surely have discovered by now, he is weak. He blames Olivia for the conflict, deep down he blames her because he can't help but think that if she hadn't thrown herself at him that night, none of this would be going on. The more sensible part of him knows he's in denial- that he's loved 'Liv for far longer than he could care to admit, but that part of him doesn't like to emerge when he's worked up, and so when he and Olivia fall out, they fall out in a big way.

And naturally, it is in the midst of one of these fights that Broyles has a new case for them. Something which would be bad enough under these circumstances without orders from above insisting that they and Walter have to personally visit the scene of the crime. In Germany.

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The flight consists of some awkward moments when they wake up on each other's shoulders mid flight, but ultimately they kiss and make up in the most figurative of senses. Mostly because Peter knows full well that has to either apologise or spend the duration of the trip with only Walter for company, but the sentiment is there nonetheless. And so he takes the moral high ground, begs forgiveness as per usual and she graces him with absolution. Not that it makes much difference- the second they land on German soil, a phone is whipped out and Olivia is laughing and joking with some guy she knows from 'way back.' And he feels like crap for it.

Peter's barely lifted Olivia's bag off the conveyer built with a very deliberate chivalry when the guy in question walks into the arrival lounge and it's exactly as the younger Bishop had feared. This man- this Lucas- is distinctly handsome, he's more touchy feely with Olivia than Peter could ever be comfortable with, and worse still, she seems to like it.

Still, he's more than aware that jealousy, perhaps tying with arrogance is his least attractive trait, and so he attempts to be civil, for the most part. However it's very clear that Lucas isn't exactly thrilled to meet Peter Bishop either and so the pair spend the rest of the day circling one another, searching for that illusive hidden weakness. Olivia doesn't notice, or at least pretends not to, and as Peter walks to the hotel with her and Walter that night, he can't help but feel that this battle ended in stalemate, if not victory for his side.

Until they learn that the hotel has double booked them, and instead of opting to share his double bed with him, or at least letting him take the sofa, she insists Lucas has a perfectly good spare bedroom and with that takes her suitcase and steps into a cab, leaving him feeling sick to his stomach. Although he feels like hitting the nearest bar and getting very drunk, it didn't exactly end well last time and so like the sensible being he is becoming he opts to take the early night. At least, he reasons he has the blessing of Walter being in a separate bedroom, and so a good night's sleep is practically guaranteed.

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The knock comes at midnight. He rises like a baited bear, ready to rip into Walter for disturbing his well earned rest when he opens the door to an entirely unexpected individual

"Olivia?" he asks, still feeling groggy from his broken sleep, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah" she answers, not sounding too sure on the matter as she slips by him and into the hotel room.

"What happened to staying with Lucas?" he knows that a good friend wouldn't ask this, or at least not so bluntly but tonight his sleep addled, jealous mind craves answers and details

"He… uh… he thought I wanted sex… and I…" Sensing how uncomfortable she is telling him, he decides to rescue her with a lazy smile and a shrug as if to say it's no big deal

"You know you can stay here." He gives the bedroom a sweeping glance, before deciding there's nothing in it he really needs tonight, "I'll take the sofa, you can have the bed."

"No" she says so quickly, he has to raise an eyebrow, "I can't just turn up here and kick you out of your bed."

"I'm used to it." His attempts to reassure her fall flat, and she adamantly suggests

"We could always share… It's not like we haven't done it before." He senses the good thing to do would be not to take no for an answer, but tonight he lacks the willpower, so he simply agrees.

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A few minutes later and he's back in bed. She lies at the opposite side in a vest top and pyjama pants that make his simple boxer short ensemble feel distinctly inadequate. Still, he supposes she's seen it all before and more, and so he forces himself to ignore his embarrassment, and indeed any sudden urges he feels building within. That should have been the end of it, but after the day he's had, Peter can't help himself but ask,

"How do you know that guy anyway?" no clarification is needed in his mind anyway, but Olivia doesn't answer for the longest time and he's just thinking that maybe she's fallen asleep when she speaks through the darkness

"We used to work together." Another silence, and he thinks that's all he's getting before she continues, "We dated, if you could even call it that. It was all before I met John."

"When you were here before, nearly a year ago…" he prompts as though it's only just occurred to him, when in reality it's been on his mind from within two hours of meeting the guy

"We nearly slept together again," She confirms and he can't help but remember how he'd hooked himself up to Walter's damn contraption for her while she'd been off painting the town red with Lucas.

"What stopped you?" he hopes to God she'll cite him as a reason, however inadvertently but her actual response somehow is so much better.

"I don't have meaningless sex anymore." Any residual guilt that remains from their dalliance is at once smothered by the thrill the implication of her words gives him. It is mostly because of this that tonight he feels especially daring in this half light and trying not to sound too apprehensive, he prompts

"You and me…"

"It was stupid and thoughtless" she replies abruptly, before softening, "But you and I both know it was far from meaningless."

His restraint crumbles with her words, and gently, slowly he leans across the bed and presses his lips onto hers in the chastest kiss he's ever given her. However, reality comes crashing down too quickly and he pulls back almost immediately, knowing she's probably had her quota of co-workers pawing at her tonight. Looking at her, he notes she looks as terrified as he feels and an apology is quick to fall from his lips, fully prepared now for her to banish him from his own bed. However the words are barely out when she tells him quite firmly he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for and her fingers find their way into his hair, pulling him in for another, slightly less innocent kiss.

His hand is sliding under her vest top when the remorse hits him this time. Pulling back, his voice is a regretful whisper

"We should stop."

"We should" she agrees, but somehow their lips meet again, and moments later his hands mutiny from his mind and peel her clothes from her.

"I love you" he mumbles, much like last time the words come before his common sense can catch up with his mouth

"I know" she groans against him, and although it's far from the perfect response, at least this time she acknowledges he said it.

The morning after is a rushed affair, and although they talk as they hastily dress and eat, there's very little real sentiment behind it. He senses Olivia has nothing but regrets. Again. And he has to wonder exactly why he keeps putting himself in this situation. His one consolation prize throughout the day is how distant she is with Lucas while, outwardly at least, nothing has changed between them.

And so the third time is born from jealousy and lust.

The fourth time is more about love.

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**I think I might just leave it at that. Unless you all want me to continue? Then there might be one more.**

**Reviews= love.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, so I officially suck. There's no reason for this fanfic being dragged out so long, and I really am sorry about how long I've left it. **

**Firstly, I know the fanfic didn't work for a long time when I uploaded chapter three. I still have no idea why it kept disappearing, but hopefully it won't happen with this chapter.**

**Secondly, I wrote this, and chapter five as one chapter but it turned into six pages on word, so I thought I'd give your eyes a break and split it into these two final chapters. Chapter five will be uploaded on Tuesday, after I've refined it a bit.**

**Enjoy :)**

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The fourth time is a long time after the third.

Time passes. Olivia avoids Peter Bishop where she can, their recent trip to Germany having proven how weak she truly can be. Without so much as a drink in her system she had willingly gone to his hotel room, crawled into bed beside him and when he had kissed her, she had melted against him. Professions of love had escaped his lips while they'd been tangled together, and this time she couldn't pretend to have misheard him. Not again, and so she'd mumbled a moronic, 'I know' and let his roving hands distract her from everything else. On the plane journey on the way back, Olivia acknowledges that the whole incident was very much her fault, and they both firmly agree that nothing more can happen between them.

Nothing more, that is until the next time she has a bad day about two weeks after they touch down on American soil. Somehow she finds herself inside a bar that she has always known Peter to frequent. And sure enough, she's only on her second drink when the man himself walks through the door. It's clear he spots her immediately, although he tries his best to pretend that he doesn't. She bides her time however, and sure enough three shots later he drops into the booth beside her, a whiskey in either hand.

She pretends to be drunker than she is, giggling in random intervals and touching his arm more than she usually would, until she finally raises the courage to haul him out to a nice dark alleyway. After the way she has treated him, she knows deep in her heart that intoxication is her only real excuse for dragging them both into this again.

She makes her intentions clear, stepping back against the wall and drawing him close. He proves more resilient than usual however, and it isn't until her hands rise up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck that he ducks his head and presses her hard against the alley wall, his lips moving against hers with a furious haste.

There's nothing even slightly gentle about him this time. His teeth nick her tongue, and as he grinds hard against her, it becomes all too clear that he's willing to screw her here and now against this wall if she'll permit it. However despite all pretences, she's not quite far gone enough to allow that to happen, so when his right hand grazes the fly of her black pants, she bats it away gently and turns her head to the side, so her lips just brush against his ear as she mumbles

"Let's go somewhere else." However the answer she receives is less than enthusiastic

"Like where? Walter's at my place, Rachel's at yours and I seriously doubt you want either of them to know what's going on here."

"I used to get a hotel room, with…" perhaps she's had more to drink than she realises, because the words escape her before she realises just who she is talking to, and although she cuts herself off before she names her dead lover, it's clear the damage is more than done. At once, he steps backwards and looks up at the sky, as if searching for an answer written in the stars. An awkward, silent moment passes before he speaks again, in a softer tone, but with a side of desperation

"Tell me you love me." The look she gives him can only be described as pure, unadulterated panic. However she hates the void of silence that's slowly forming, so she forces herself to speak, to say anything.

"You're drunk, Peter" she sidesteps, staring at his shoes and feeling her face redden

"But you're not" he challenges, "I told myself I wasn't going to say anything, Liv, but it's not fair. You know exactly how I feel and I need to know where I stand, so if you love me, please just tell me." Even now, alone and in the dark she can't bring herself to say the words he desperately wants to hear. She's well aware that her silence is damning, but after John she can't even consider saying that to another man. Truth be told, she can't even bring herself to consider it. He gives her just under ten seconds, but it feels like a lifetime before he talks again

"Okay, let's try something easier. Do you even like me?"

"Of course I like you" she begins, but he cuts her off

"I don't mean like a friend. I mean like someone you could someday see yourself loving. Because if you don't even like me, we have a serious problem." She feels like slapping him, like screaming, like demanding to know if he seriously thinks she just sleeps with all her male friends. But still, the fear overwhelms everything else, and so she still says nothing. Finally, Peter makes a frustrated noise and takes another step away from her

"I guess that's it then." He barely glances at her as he pulls out his cell phone, flicks through his contacts and puts it to his ear

"What are you doing?" she asks in a low tone, almost afraid to speak to him

"Calling you a cab" he replies in an equally dead tone.

"What about you?"

"I'll walk. I need to clear my head."

He waits with her in silence until the taxi arrives, offers to pay her fare and finally takes off into the darkness. She almost stops him, but selfishly, her self preservation still means more to her than breaking his heart temporarily. He'll get over her- of that she is sure. Eventually. He's going to have to.

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In the weeks following the alleyway, things are bad between them, but slowly and inevitably, they get better. Peter visits Rachel at the apartment less, claiming that seeing Olivia there reminds him too much of work. They keep their professional and private lives as separate as possible, and although she misses his gentle flirting, she recognises it's for the best.

All in all, Olivia's life is surprisingly good. Until that is, she misses a period. The full blown terror begins early, and without a word to anyone she takes herself straight out to the pharmacy, and buys a test, and then another - because one can never be too careful. She takes one in the bathroom of the mall, and another when she returns to her apartment. When both are negative, she allows herself to breathe again and resolves not to mention in to Peter, for fear of slicing open old wounds.

But then the very next day she arrives home from work to Rachel, standing arms crossed, the empty pregnancy test box sitting on the kitchen table. Rachel had found it in the trash apparently, in a chain of events that sounded altogether too much like a Friends episode for Olivia's liking, but Rachel is too worked up about the little blue box sitting between them to explain further. As soon as Olivia assures her sister of the negative result, the real inquisition begins. Who is this potential father? How does Olivia know him? Has Rachel met him? Better yet, could it be Charlie?

Knowing she'll get no peace 'til answers are given, Olivia frankly reminds Rachel of Charlie's married status before inventing a man, a colleague, from another department of the FBI. She considers using Lucas, but quickly disregards the idea, knowing things could get complicated if Rachel still had his cell number. It is now, during this tidal wave of questions that Peter makes his entrance, escorted by a chattering Ella. He takes one look at the little blue box on the table and blanches considerably.

Rachel notes the look on his face with a mild smirk.

"Don't worry. It's 'Liv's, not mine." When his look of horror only intensifies, Olivia has to wonder how he ever made it as a conman when he's just so damn transparent. Of course, Rachel picks up on the look immediately and before long, she puts two and two together, and gets four.

Amidst all the accusations, Peter denies any sort of affair, but sick of all of the lying, Olivia crumbles faster than any perp and admits to the two night stand. Ella is sent to her bedroom and the unavoidable screaming begins. The guilty pair silently accept the barrage of insults that come their way, but Olivia can barely look at Peter, seeing the plain fury in his eyes, all directed towards her. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, Peter is sent packing by an irate Rachel, who shrieks after him that she never wants to see him again. Next Rachel insists that she and Ella are leaving for good in the morning. Olivia knows that eventually, be it weeks, months or even years, her sister will forgive her, but that knowledge doesn't help to ease the burning shame in any way. And nor should it.

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At about midnight, Rachel enters Olivia's bedroom, a surprisingly calm aura about her, betrayed only by the stiffness with which she grips her coffee mug

"When?" she asks in the hard voice she uses when she's trying so very hard to be unemotional

"Once about six months ago, and than again when we were in Germany." She leaves out the alleyway, and indeed the fact that this _thing_ between she and Peter had been building for far longer than Rachel's relationship with him.

"Who started it?"

"He kissed me first" Olivia says immediately, before her loyalty to Peter forces her to be more honest, "But it was my fault. They both were. The first time, I got him drunk and the second I practically dragged him into bed with me."

"Why?" Rachel's mouth is a dangerously thin line, and yet Olivia still can't find an answer

"I don't know"

"Olivia, you had an affair with my boyfriend. The least you could do is tell me why you did it." _Because I love him? Because part of me hates you? _Neither are entirely true, and neither, she expects are what Rachel wants to hear.

"Because it's been so long since John and I just needed to feel loved" she finally finds an obvious answer, but from the look on Rachel's face it's entirely the wrong thing to say

"He loves you?"

"I think so."

"Do you love him?" Rachel fires back, and finally Olivia relents a little.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You screwed my boyfriend because you _might _love him?" Rachel's voice is shrill again, and before long the rants began again, and continue well into the early hours of the morning.

* * *

Peter, for his part makes it clear he's not at all happy the morning after. Words like betrayal, pathetic and selfish are thrown about and when Peter finally storms from her office, Olivia can't help but feel like their friendship has at last been irreparably damaged.

Luckily for them both, she's wrong.

For the fourth time occurs a long time after the third. But it is most definitely worth the wait.

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**I know I don't deserve reviews, but I'd still quite like some =]**


	5. Chapter 5

**So this is it. My final chapter. Thanks for sticking with me these past few months :)**

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**The fourth time happens when Peter needs it the most.**

Peter ignores her completely for the next few days, after checking if she is indeed pregnant the morning after. After the silence fades away, he remains blunt at all times, rarely leaves the lab if he can help it, and he allows Walter to deal with Olivia for the most part, interjecting only when strictly necessary. He's making it painfully obvious that something happened between them, but aside from some knowing looks from Astrid, and the odd mention of a lover's tiff from Walter, it is ignored.

And then, a mere week and a half after the break up, _it_ happens. She's finishing up some paperwork at home when the call comes from Peter's cell. She blinks at it in surprise for a few seconds, but answers quickly, hoping at last this could be the end of all this unpleasantness between them.

"Dunham?" she answers cautiously

"It's Peter. Can you come meet me?" his voice sounds strange, gruff but without anger. Almost as if he's been crying

"What's wrong?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Please." His voice cracks on the final word, and it frightens her, because even after everything that has happened, she's never once seen him as upset as he sounds now.

"Okay, sure" and so she abandons her paper work and takes the hour and a half journey to the address he's given her, just because she knows he would do the same for her, despite everything that they've ever said and done to each other.

* * *

There is one solitary vehicle in the car park of the address he's given her, and as she pulls up beside it, she recognises it at once as the old beat up station wagon that Peter drives. Although she sees him, sitting alone in the driver's side of his car she pauses for a moment, taking a moment to look outside. For some reason he's brought her to a cemetery- and an old, abandoned one at that. The weather outside reflects her mood perfectly- great drops of water pour from the heavens as thunder and lightening battle above their cars, and she is reluctant to step into the downpour.

However after a few seconds of waiting, she decides that she didn't drive all this way to simply watch Peter from a separate car, and so she quickly steps outside and walks briskly to Peter's passenger door. She tries the handle, and when the door doesn't open she taps impatiently on the window. With a start, Peter looks up, clearly noticing her for the first time. He immediately unlocks the door, but turns away from her, running a hurried hand over his eyes. Any vague annoyance she had ever felt at being dragged all the way out here fades instantly as she looks on him. He seems to be absolutely devastated, his eyes red, and an almost shell-shocked expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" she asks gently, once she has sat down beside him and shut the door firmly behind her.

"Not really" He offers no other explanation at first, and so she doesn't ask for more. If all he wants is someone to sit next to him while he works out whatever the hell is wrong, then she knows she owes it to him to do that. Slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wishes, she rests her hand on top of his, where it is clenched on the gear stick, mimicking his actions towards her on that bench so very long ago. Beneath hers, his hand slowly relaxes, and then turns so he's holding her hand properly. He runs an affectionate thumb over her knuckles before, finally be speaks.

"Tell me you love me." Again she can't help but hesitate, but this time, he doesn't even give her the time to summon up the courage to answer before he continues, "Even if it's just as a friend, or a brother, or whatever. Please, just tell me you love me." He sounds like a condemned man, and it's this that finally makes her feel free enough to answer.

"I love you, Peter." His eyes flick shut for a moment and he swallows once, before pulling his hand back almost roughly

"There's something I want you to see." He steps out into the heavy rain and moves around to the passenger side to open the door for her. Before she can protest, he pulls off his thick coat and pulls it around her shoulders, simply because she didn't think to bring one of her own.

* * *

They walk in silence for a few minutes, until eventually, Peter stops in front of a non-descript tombstone. She glances at him questioningly, before reading the name, carved into the stone

"Peter Bishop. An ancestor of yours?"

"Look at the dates" his voice is hollow, and one real look at the grave at once tells her why he's been acting so traumatised, if not the reason behind this grave's existence.

"That's you" she says, stupidly

"No, that's Walter's son" he replies, as if the two hadn't always been one and the same

"Then who are you?" she whispers, trying very hard to remember that this man, whoever he may be is still the one who has helped her these past years. Still the man who loves her.

"A different version of him" he nods at the stone

"From the other universe?" she finally catches up with his train of thought

"As far as I can tell." He swallows heavily again, before whispering, "I had to show someone who'd understand. I had to make sure I wasn't just losing my mind." She smiles sympathetically and takes his hand again; unsure if the water running down his cheeks is rainwater, tears, or a mixture of the two. Suddenly, she snaps back to the real world as she realises she is still wrapped tightly in his coat and now his navy pullover and jeans are soaked through

"You're really wet" what she says is so obvious, it brings a faint smile to his lips

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does, come on." She practically trails him back to her car, hoping that somehow putting some distance between them and the cemetery will snap him out of this state of mind. When they climb in, Peter sits silently as she turns up the heating and points the majority of it in his direction.

"Let's go somewhere else" she prompts, and almost winces as she recalls she last time she said that to him, out in an alleyway in the dead of night. However, if he recalls he doesn't mention it

"I don't want to see him. Not tonight." He says, and although he names no one in particular, she understands exactly who he's speaking of.

"You don't have to." She promises, already looking up nearby hotels in her GPS system.

* * *

She finds one within a ten minute drive, and together they check into a single room, with one double bed. Part of her wonders after everything that's happened if this is a bad idea. Common sense tells her that she could easily get a separate room- that he's not going to disappear if she leaves him alone for the night. Another part of her, the dominating part is terrified that he'll do just that if she lets him out of her sight for more than a minute. Clearly Peter has no problems with sharing a bed, as not a protest is uttered as they climb the stairs together. But then he hasn't exactly said much since they left the tombstone.

Once inside, she warns him there'll be trouble if the word couch is so much as uttered. After using the complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste, and procrastinating as long as possible, she strips to her underwear, and after a second's hesitation, he follows suit. Shivering, she flicks off the light and slips under the covers, but when Peter's leg accidentally brushes against hers, she realises he's still far colder than she. She makes her decision quickly

"You're freezing" she remarks by way of explanation and rolls over so that her back is pressed tight against his front. He hesitates far too long for her liking, so she gently but firmly pulls his arms around her so that he's spooning her. Disliking just how cold he has become, she rubs her hands up and down his forearms in the hope of warming him quicker. She says nothing aloud, but it frightens her just how catatonic he has become, simply reacting, going along with whatever she does. A pre-Rachel Peter would have had plenty to say about her methods of heating him up. But still, she knows how much he must have on his mind, tonight of all nights and so she allows him to just think, despite how much it is unnerving her.

They lie in silence for a long time, until finally Olivia deems him warm enough to cease the assault on his forearms, but she doesn't pull away from his embrace. Instead she snuggles further against him and finally responding to her, Peter tightens his grip around her waist. A sign she hopes, that he has stopped over thinking, at least for now

"I'm sorry" he whispers in the dark. Surprised, she asks

"What for?"

"I don't know... Everything?" He tries. Olivia remains quiet for a moment, wondering what has gotten into him now. A fool could see that everything that's happened between them has been totally and entirely her fault. Thus far at least, everything bad that's happened between then has been down to her old scars; her fears of commitment.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." she replies with as much genuine sincerity she can muster, "And I'm sorry too. For hurting you, I mean."

"You drove fifty miles in the dark just because I asked you to. I'd say we're even" and even though she still feels bad, she says nothing more about it. They lapse into silence again, but now instead of lying completely still, Peter's fingers trail patterns over her naked stomach. A few moments later and he begins to press light kisses against the hollow of her neck. She shuts her eyes and simply enjoys him for a few moments, until she firmly tells herself that she's done being selfish, for tonight at least. Rolling over to face him, she avoids his next kiss and mumbles as firmly as she can

"Stop it, Peter" The look he gives her is one of such utter confusion that it brings a smile to her lips. She knows she's giving him nothing but mixed signals but she's been down this road with Peter before and kissing him nearly always leads to more. And right now, although she's sure he would love nothing more than to be screwed senseless, he'd asked her to meet him for a different reason.

"You called me because you wanted to talk, not have sex." she points out reluctantly

"We could do both" he tries, more of the old Peter sparkle in his eyes

"Let's start with talking then we'll see what happens after" she props her head up with one hand, and moves back a little, out of his personal space. "So are you feeling any better now?"

"A bit" he admits, regarding her solemnly "I think just showing someone else helped. We both know I can't just ignore this, but right now I have no idea what to do." He pauses for a moment, but she remains silent, knowing that sometimes Peter works better when he talks things out with himself. Often, she just feels like an onlooker to his mental process

"I mean I can stay here and keep working with Walter and Astrid. And you" his mouth twitches into a half smile at that final word, "Or I can go back." Although she has seen this coming ever since that pensive car journey to the hotel, her heart quickens at the thought of losing him. Whatever she'd expected when she'd answered that call tonight, it hadn't been this. And honestly, she doesn't want him to leave town, never mind the universe. But still, she reminds herself, she'd promised herself to stop being self involved. At the end of it all, this couldn't be her choice. Still as he remains silent, she realises that he's waiting for her remark. To say something, anything. And so she asks

"What would you do? Over there, I mean. You wouldn't have any money, qualifications, ID…"

"I know plenty of ways of making money and none of them require qualifications. ID can always be found if you know who to talk to."

"Which you wouldn't" she points out

"I'd find a way" he says in a final tone, before his voice softens again, "As for what I'd do? Isn't it obvious? I'd go track down their version of Broyles. The way I see it, I know too much for him to do anything other than offer me a job. Who knows, I might even end up working for an Olivia Dunham." This new life seems entirely too well thought out for Olivia's taste, and desperately she searches for some sort of hole in it

"Except that Olivia Dunham might not like you as much as I do."

"Like? It was love two hours ago" he teases, but not without a certain vulnerability dancing behind those brown eyes. Even now that they're laying practically naked in bed together, he obviously still doesn't know what to believe. And after everything she's put him through, she can't really blame him.

"Fine, love" she corrects, but is quick to add, "But honestly, I wouldn't want any Peter Bishop other than you." His smile fades quickly and seemingly very tired of these games, he speaks plainly

"I'll stay if you ask me to." She so very much wants to do that, but her conscience won't quite allow it

"This isn't my decision."

"But…" he prompts, and finally she gives in, and does the selfish thing, knowing she can punish herself in the morning for it

"But I couldn't imagine the Fringe Division without you." His expression tells her he had hoped for more, but she genuinely wouldn't feel right saying anything else. They stare at each other for a moment, in a stalemate of sorts, before finally Peter looks away

"Okay then." He moves closer to her again, his head inches from hers on the pillow, "Now about us..."

"What about us?" she half smiles, finding fun in torturing him now that she's long since made her decision.

"I'm not very good at this sort of thing, Liv so I'm just gonna say it. I want to be with you, and at this point if that just means seeing you every day at work, then that's going to have to be enough, but we both know I want more. And sometimes I think you do too. And then there's other times I get the impression you'd rather do anything else in the world than date me. I'm not going to ask you if you love me again, because quite frankly that was pathetic enough the first time, but this is it Liv. Your choice." She had planned on drawing it out longer, but he looks so vulnerable now that she can't do anything but put him out of his misery. Very deliberately, she runs a finger down his cheek and slowly nudges his chin up until his lips meet hers.

"That's the first time you've kissed me first, you know that?" he asks when they finally break apart, and although she denies it quickly, a moment's thought reminds her that indeed while she was always the one who got them into these situations, until now she'd always waited for him to make the first move. Another thing, she supposes she'll have to make up for eventually. They're quick to resume the kissing, but when Peter's hands begin to wander, Olivia decides to call it a night

"Not tonight, Peter" she mumbles in between breathless kisses

"You're really killing me here, Liv" he grumbles, but after one last lingering kiss, he allows her to roll back into their spooning position. Just as she feels her eyes growing heavy, his breath tickles her ear

"Thank you for coming out here tonight." Although she mumbles a 'you're welcome' back, it somehow doesn't seem like enough, but still it takes her a good quarter of an hour to build up the courage to speak

"Peter?"

"Hmm?" he sounds barely conscious, but she believes that can only be a good thing

"I really do love you, you know." It takes him so long to respond that she starts to think he actually has fallen asleep, until at last he mumbles

"Love you too."

* * *

This morning after is something else entirely. This time, there are a lot fewer embarrassing silences and a lot more genuine smiles and little touches. They still rush breakfast, because they sleep through the alarms, and inevitably that leads to the walk of shame of two colleagues, arriving late together in the same clothes they were wearing the night before.

They don't openly announce the relationship, but Olivia resolves not to hide it if anyone is to ask, and makes it a point to call and tell Rachel as soon as possible. This time, they're going to do this right, Olivia decides, with no secrets and no lies.

And so the fourth time was a long time after the third.

But it was followed by a lifetime of shared beds.

* * *

**One last review?**


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